


Savage Energy

by lightsaroundyourvanity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e01 The Dark Moon, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 12:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1857309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightsaroundyourvanity/pseuds/lightsaroundyourvanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe coyotes and foxes need to smell, to touch. 4x01 coda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Savage Energy

Malia feels at home on the dance floor. Not _home_ home-- nothing can compare to the primal rush of tearing through the wild, yearning for the hunt, plunging into icy streams-- but home _enough_. The music throbs and rattles the floor, and Malia can feel it pumping through her, as intoxicating as adrenaline. She shakes out her hair and wriggles her hips, closes her eyes and throws her head back. The pound of music feels raw and potent. Malia wonders if she could disappear into it, the way she had once disappeared into the woods, into a coyote's hide. She wonders--

"Something's happening." Kira looks small and very afraid when she runs up to Malia. _I know,_ Malia tells her, _Blend in._ And then, when Kira only stares at her, wide eyed, frustration creeping in alongside the confusion and the fear, Malia adds, _Dance with me, dumbass._ Kira starts to shuffle on the dance floor, stilted and awkward.

Malia has never known anyone with the kind of nervous energy that Kira carries every day. It stings her skin, palpable, like soda bubbles. She likes it. It makes her laugh. She's fighting back laughter right now, as Kira bobs her head in a desperate and ill measured attempt to keep time with the music. Her shoulders twitch and she moves her hips in a foreign, jerky motion, and this is so, _so_ the opposite of blending in. Malia bites back a grin and Kira makes a face at her and keeps--well, keeps _trying_ \--dancing. 

_Feel the music,_ Malia wants to tell her. _Let it lead you._ But Malia isn't great with words or lessons yet. Then she wants to tell Kira about the hunt, about letting primal instinct and endorphins pull limbs through the frenzied beat. But she thinks that maybe Kira won't understand.

Or maybe coyotes and foxes can't communicate with shouts over loud music. They need to smell, to touch. Malia reaches out and grabs Kira, presses her palm to the small of Kira's back, and pulls them towards each other.

It's like they ignite.

Malia swings her hips against Kira's and the puzzled look drops off of Kira's face, lifts into a dazzling smile. Her body moves with Malia's, and Malia feels something coil between them, bright and exhilarating. For a perfect moment Malia carefully studies Kira's face, smiles into her eyes, and Kira smiles back.

The bright coil shimmers, and they dance in earnest, Kira nursing unexpected cool confidence from taking Malia's lead. She winds her arms around Malia's neck and they dance to the music, and Malia feels something inside herself stir as Kira presses them closer together and shimmies, and they both toss their hair.

Kira throws her head back and Malia is struck by how much she wants her right now, how she wants to lick the sweat off of Kira's collarbone and taste her skin, hot with exertion, musky and sweet. Kira would be sharp curves and soft sighs, and Malia grinds closer to Kira and revels in the arousal buzzing against her pulse.

She wants to kiss Kira.

Human desire is still an unfamiliar rush to Malia. She never knew it before her transformation. And prowling as a coyote, everything had bled together, hunger and thrill and lust. She can't pick out a thread of frank attraction from that time --or even if she could, so much is hazy now, an animal dream-- but Malia has a feeling that it didn't really exist.

She feels it now, as a girl, has felt it patter over the last few months. It drives her to kiss Stiles on the mouth and push his hands underneath her shirts. It drives her to writhe against Kira now, feel their sweat mingle and Kira's quivering laughter. Heat pools between Malia's legs, and she wonders at how wet she must be down there right now. Wonders if Kira is wet too, and what would happen if they slipped and slid together, played fingers across the tender flesh of each other's thighs and lapped their tongues along hot, damp junctures. Malia wonders if Kira would pant or if she would squeal. If her dark eyes would stay bright and steady even with her pupils blown wide from want. She catches a whiff of something, salty arousal, and the thought that it might have wafted from Kira makes Malia want to groan.

If they scrambled out of here, for one minute or for ten, would anybody really notice? Would they be able to steal a window to frantically tear at each others clothes, unsnap the button of Malia's shorts and shove Kira's skirt around her waist? Malia can almost taste how badly she wants it, wants to plunge her tongue into Kira's mouth and her fingers into Kira's heat, wants to suck on her fingers afterwards and savour the taste of Kira's scent. She sways towards Kira, drunk on yearning and on the swell of Kira's bottom lip. Malia could run her tongue along the curve of Kira's pout; she's close enough to. She could tug the skin of Kira's lip between her teeth and bite down gently, bite down hard, bite down hard enough to make Kira squirm and beg for more. Nobody would stop her, and the bump of the music and her own racing pulse are spurring Malia to _go,_ to act, to consume. For anything, Malia can't think of a reason _why not._

A flicker of concise movement catches Malia's attention, just out of the corner of her eye. It snaps her back to reality, and as she evens her breathing, it grounds her, tracking the bodies that move like soldiers through the crowd, reminding herself that they are here on a mission, that she fights with a pack now. Her gaze darts back to Kira; and Kira is still dancing, eyes swept downcast, arms high over her head. She looks sexy, and happy now that she's more comfortable moving her body. All Malia wants to do is kiss her right now, and frustration makes her bite back a shout. But she can feel them being slowly surrounded, and she knows that she needs to focus.

The enemy filters deeper into the crowd. Malia grins, savage, showing teeth. The fight will be good for her blood.

 

 


End file.
